


the ache in his bones

by lovelymuke



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Calum Ashton and Michael aren't really in the first part sorry, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt Luke, Luke's uncle is a total asshole in this, M/M, Muke - Freeform, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:28:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelymuke/pseuds/lovelymuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke hates Christmas. None of his band mates know why until his boyfriend finds him curled on the kitchen floor a week afterwards, his pale chest beaten black and blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Luke feels sick. 

His stomach is knotting and his palms are sweating uncontrollably, no matter how many times he wipes them on his dark jeans. It’s a few days before Christmas, and Luke knows that he shouldn’t be feeling this way. He’s in the back of a taxi, navigating through the familiar streets of Sydney, making the journey from the airport back home.

Sometimes Luke desperately wishes he could be more like Calum, Ashton and Michael, who were ecstatic about the idea of being able to go home. The three of them are probably in their own taxis, somewhere on the same highway that Luke is on now, leading to the western suburbs, where they had all been born and raised. He couldn’t help the dread he felt inside of him though, and it seems that the closer they got to home, the tighter the horrible knotted feeling in his stomach became. Luke hates Christmas, and being panicky and nervy like this was always something that he experiences right before having to go home.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to see his family, he loves his parents more than anything, and it’s always reassuring to be able to go back and find that his brothers have barely changed at all. Instead, it’s that he’ll have to face his uncle, David. He’s his father’s brother and honestly, the sight of him is enough to make Luke’s insides twist in fear. Luke will never admit it though, and even though all of his band mates are always concerned about why he got all angsty around this time of year, he’s sworn to himself he’ll never tell a soul why he’s petrified of his uncle. The words will never pass his lips. Because Luke’s nineteen, he should be able to take a punch right?

 

He isn’t even sure how is started, all he remembers is small fragments of that first Christmas day seven years ago, the day that makes his hands clench into fists in the back of the taxi as he recalls it. The house was filled with cheerful chatter, and the faint sound of Christmas carols playing from the next room over when there was a rough hand on his arm dragging him from the living room floor, where he had been sitting alone. As a small boy, there was nothing he could do as he was shoved against the wall of the study, while his whole extended family was downstairs preparing Christmas dinner. The impact of a fist to his shoulder, a kick to his stomach. The feeling of haziness in his brain, his body wanting to just shut down from all the pain, is all he can remember properly. 

Luke likes boys. That’s no secret to their family, and logically it shouldn’t matter. Apart from the fact that his uncle, David, is tough, strongly religious and quite possibly the biggest homophobic asshole that you could come across. The rest of the Hemming’s family are oblivious, they think that he’s just as supportive of Luke and his sexuality as they all are. If Luke wasn’t so on edge, then that thought might of made him crack a dry smile because they were so, so wrong. He was only twelve when David had found out, that December 25th when he had made it his mission to remove the homosexuality from Luke using the only way he knew how after his years in the military, violence. And for four years it had almost worked. Until he was sixteen, and it had taken Luke months to come to terms with the feelings he had for Michael. Even now, despite all the scars that littered his skin to remind him that what he’s doing is ‘sinning,’ he could never give up Michael for the world. 

That doesn’t matter now anyway though, because Luke’s almost positive that in this moment, his boyfriend, and his other two band mates, couldn’t hate him any more. All of them, even Michael, had left the airport without so much as a goodbye to him at the airport, even though they probably wouldn’t see each other for a little while over their break. That hurt Luke, made him feel even more pathetic than he already felt. He hates Michael being upset with him, even if he was aware that it was his fault they were all mad at him. Ever since he had gotten the call from his mother a week ago while they were still overseas, which had started off as an innocent phone call to check in, and when Luke asked her how all the family was, ended with her casually sharing the news that David was staying at their house for a month while his apartment underwent renovations, so he would be there for the whole two weeks Luke was meant to be spending at home. His heart had dropped in his chest then, and he remembers having to work hard to keep his breathing normal as he said a rushed goodbye to Liz, before locking himself away, ensuring none of his band mates found him in such a worked up state. 

After that call, Luke had been despondent, coming across as moody and uninterested in every promo gig they had to fulfil. He knew it; he couldn’t focus in interviews and spent so much of his energy trying to speak when spoken to without messing up that he never responded to any of the other boy’s efforts to get him to lighten up a bit throughout, whether it was on or off camera. All three of them had been sympathetic with Luke at first, knowing that for some reason, he got like this every year around Christmas. Calum lost patience with Luke first, telling him to “fucking lighten up and get over yourself,” when they had gotten out of yet another radio interview where the other three had to cover for a silent and out of it Luke. Ashton had stopped trying a day or so later, obviously getting sick of the younger boy’s surly attitude despite trying to be the mature and diplomatic one, never explicitly mentioning it. 

Michael, being the gentle and caring boyfriend that he was, had tried to stick it out and not show that he was beginning to get slightly agitated with the change of behaviour. It was hard to not let it affect him after all; they were basically all living in each other’s pockets. To Luke, it seemed that Michael had finally given up about six hours earlier, on the plane back to Australia. He had slid into the seat next to his boyfriend, asking him if he was all right in the same soft tone that he always uses when he knows that Luke’s upset. “Fuck off Michael,” Luke remembered muttering, wishing that he was anywhere except for stuck 30,000 feet in the air with three boys who hated him, on the way back to Australia to be stuck with someone else who if possible, hated him even more. His uncle.

 

None of the boys had any idea that there was a reason behind it, or the hell Luke knew he was sure to endure. They would probably still hate me all the same, was the only coherent thought he was able to form in his racing mind. Minutes later, he’s shaken by the slight screech of brakes as the taxi driver pulls up abruptly outside the same house he’s lived in since he was tiny. “Thanks” Luke nods tensely, pulling cash out of his pocket and checking it was Australian dollars and not pounds, since they had just come from London, before handing it over. He drags all his cases from the back of the taxi, clenching his hands tightly around the handles to try and release some of the tension filling his body. 

Telling himself to calm down, and to just think about how good it would be to see his parents, he forces himself up the steps to the porch of the house and knocks on the door. A smile finds it’s way onto his face without him noticing as Liz throws open the door, wrapping her arms around her youngest son. “It’s so good to have you home, oh how are you? You’re looking kind of skinny, you’ve been eating okay haven’t you?” Liz babbles, her eyes scanning up and down her son but Luke just brushes her off with a wave of his hand, which is shaking slightly, and a small grin. “It’s good to see you too” is all he has time to get out as she ushers him inside, calling out for his father to come and help with his suitcases. 

The grin drops straight off Luke’s face as David steps into the hallway, and the fact that he looks so normal is enough to scare him to death. Luke shoves his hands into his pockets to try and subside the trembling, and he holds back a wince as David claps him on the back just that little bit too hard, just enough to cause pain on impact. “Luke! It’s been a long time buddy” David is smiling for once, instead of the usual sinister smirk that has been ingrained into Luke’s mind and it makes him horribly uncomfortable but he does his best to rearrange his face into a mask that vaguely resembles someone happy. He doesn’t say a word to acknowledge David’s greeting, merely nodding before he grabs one of his suitcases and drags it towards the staircase in order to avoid any further social interaction with his uncle. Knowing that he has to deal with this for two more weeks is a thought Luke tries his best to push right to the back of his mind. 

 

Luke thanks his lucky stars as he steps into the kitchen half an hour later. Both his mother and father are standing around the kitchen bench, but David is just heading out the sliding door leading onto the porch, lighter and cigarette in hand. “You took your time” Liz muses, pulling cutlery out of the drawer for dinner and Luke nods, slightly curtly. 

“Had to freshen up, long flight” is all he says, when really he had to use that time to rein in his wild emotions and try to keep them in order. Liz seems pleased with this response, informing him that they’re having pasta for dinner as Luke begins to help place plates on the table. It’s domestic times like this that feel normal to him, like his childhood. He knows his parents always try to not make a fuss of him whenever he arrives home, knowing that he would rather just prefer everything was normal and forget his hectic lifestyle for a few weeks. Even so, Liz questions him about the tour so far, but Luke knows for a fact that she would have been keeping up with them and their shows online as a way to feel close to her son, even when he was halfway across the world. His father just chuckles at all of his wife’s questions, straining the pasta and all the anxiety Luke was feeling almost drains from him. Only almost though, because he can still see David just out on the patio, smoke drifting from the end of his cigarette and evaporating into the humid evening air. 

Luke tries to keep his cool as his cool as David steps inside, his clothes reeking of cigarette smoke, the lines etched in his face looking deeper than they had done when he stepped outside twenty minutes ago. Trying with all his effort to avoid looking David in the eyes at all costs, Luke manages to keep his nerves relatively as bay until Liz brings up the one topic that he had been crossing his fingers and praying she wouldn’t bring up. “How’s Mikey?” she asks with a smile on her face, reaching for the jug of the water on the table. His mother has always been fond of his colourful haired boyfriend, but in his head Luke curses her for having to mention him when David is sitting directly opposite from him. Luke pretends that he didn’t see him grip his knife tighter at the mention of his boyfriend’s name, but he has to place a hand on his thigh to try and control the shaking brought on by nerves. 

“Good, he’s good” Luke forces out, thinking fast to try and change the topic. “How are Jack and Celeste?” he says quickly, internally relieved when his mother starts babbling on about the small French bulldog they’ve recently adopted together. 

 

The rest of the evening passes without incident, which Luke is immensely grateful for, but when his Dad asks if he wants to watch football with him and David, he quickly excuses himself to bed, using jetlag as his excuse to disappear to his room and put as much distance between him and his uncle as possible. Luke did just that, traipsing up the stairs to lock himself in his childhood bedroom, and as he does he can feel David’s eyes on his back, watching him. It sends slight shivers down Luke’s back, which he desperately tries to ignore.

Despite trying to reassure himself when he slips into his bed, pulling back the covers revealing a slightly musty smell due to not being used for at least six months, Luke knows he can’t avoid David forever like he did tonight. Even so, he’s determined to try because the bruises on his skin from last time he was home had only fully faded a mere month or so ago and he didn’t want to go through that again. Making excuses to the rest of the band about why he never took his shirt off around them for months at a time was excruciating. Having to forgo sex with his handsome boyfriend was equally as painful, but the fear that coursed through Luke whenever Mikey went to tug his shirt off would always ruin the mood anyway. 

 

Luke was right; of course he couldn’t avoid David forever. Though he had hoped that he might be able to stay away from him for longer than twenty-four hours, but as Luke has discovered, life can be cruel. His parents went out the next day, last minute Christmas Eve shopping, but Luke had politely declined, opting to stay in bed figuring that David would probably be accompanying them. So when Luke finally wandered from his bedroom, shirtless and sleepy, he was startled to see David slumped on the couch, bottle of beer in hand despite it only being one in the afternoon. His eyes narrow as they land on Luke, and to him, it feels as if his whole body shrink’s under David’s gaze, suddenly feeling extremely exposed and venerable. 

“Lukey” he says in a sarcastic tone, a sick grin toying with the corners of his lips. Luke draws in a shaky breath. 

“Just piss off” he murmurs, his nerves not allowing him to speak up any louder and suddenly David's standing up, striding towards him. 

“Fags like you don’t tell me what to do,” he hisses, and Luke finds his back colliding with the hard wall behind him, as he takes stumbled steps to try and get away. 

“I’ll leave you alone,” Luke breathes out, but David only shakes his head. 

“How’s _Mikey?_ ” he asked, repeating the same question Liz had asked last night, but there was more venom in his voice, more hatred. Luke swallows. He can’t bring himself to say anything. “Just like I thought. You know you’re sinning don’t you Luke? You know whenever your pathetic boyfriend is fucking your pathetic ass that it’s wrong, but yet you continue to be a disappointment. Why is that?” 

Luke stays silent, and he absolutely detests the sneer in his voice as David rips apart the one thing he holds so dear to his heart, his relationship with Michael. When David realises Luke isn’t going to say anything, his fists clench at his sides, as if he’s itching to connect them with any inch of Luke’s skin he can reach. His face began to redden and all of a sudden pure, undiluted fear coursed through Luke’s veins as his uncles fist can crashing into his shoulder, leaving him groaning in pain on impact. Another punch knocks Luke off balance, and a swift kick to his shins leaves him on the ground, sprawled on the same carpet he learned to walk on when he was only a toddler. 

“Please” is the only word that escapes Luke’s mouth, only met with a scoff and another kick from David. It goes on like this for what seems like hours; Luke losing all track of time, unable to focus on anything apart from the burning pain across his back and abdomen. He’s close to passing out when David finally aims one last well-placed kick at his shoulder blade, only narrowly missing his chin. 

“Get up, you worthless faggot” David spits, turning his back on Luke and stalking from the room, rubbing at his knuckles as if to rid any homosexuality from them. Pulling himself up from the ground with the last ounces of strength he can muster from his worn body, Luke tries to avoid looking at himself in the mirror on the wall as he limps from the room, every muscle aching, begging him to stop moving. 

 

This goes on for days, David taking any chance he can to corner him and drag him to the edge of consciousness, setting his nerve endings alight with pain. It’s five days since Luke arrived home, and he’s stumbling from his fathers study, nursing his arm, which he had landed on after being thrown to the floor. Although he’s become too used to hiding his pain from his family with sweatshirts and smiles, he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it up. 

Christmas day was hell, the cheap plastic ornaments and overly joyful carols contrasting starkly with Luke’s desolate mood, David watching his every move with a knowing glint in his eye, fully aware of the power he had over the boy. Even now that Christmas Day was over, David's still around and every bruise forming on Luke’s skin was pushing him closer and closer to tipping point. He's waking up at night, his childhood bedroom tainted by hideous nightmares and the times when he has to slump in the corner and focus all his energy on not passing out from ongoing panic attacks. 

Every night this happens, Luke stares at his phone, wishing he could be strong enough to pick up the phone and call Michael. He wants to be able to tell him everything, beginning from the Christmas Day he experienced as a small, scared and confused twelve-year-old and ending in the present moment as he sits alone in the dark, trying to fend off impending feelings of panic and the voices of his uncle in his head. He misses his boyfriend desperately, misses his stupid jokes and the way he can always tell if Luke’s upset, when he needs a cuddle or when he needs to be left alone. Luke would give anything to be in Michael’s arms, even simply in his presence. 

Luke knows that its his own fault that he hasn’t heard from Michael, his own fault that he’s irritated at the younger boy. That doesn’t stop Luke from wanting to tell Michael everything, but he can’t, because he’s sworn to himself that he’ll never tell a soul. This isn’t because he’s scared that David will beat him to a bloody pulp if he finds out that Luke has let one of his darkest secrets slip off his tongue. Well, maybe he’s a little bit scared of that. Mainly it’s because he’s ashamed. He’s nearly twenty years old, fully grown, but still finds himself shrinking and cowering in the shadow of his uncle. 

What sort of nineteen year old can’t stand up for himself? 

What would his band mates think if they found out that Luke was too pathetic, too tangled in the fear rooted deep inside of him to ever try and fight back? 

 

Luke knows he needs to leave. Realistically there’s no way that he can spend another full week here, another seven days, another hundred and sixty-eight hours, without losing his sanity completely. He’s already a mess, David having just cornered him in the study for what must be the fourth or fifth time this week. He lowers himself down onto the very edge of his bed, afraid to let himself get too comfortable as he lets out a shuddery sigh, his whole body aching from holding it too tense, his arm still throbbing from the impact that it had hit the floor a mere twenty minutes ago. 

Luke’s head is a chaotic mess as panic rises up through his body, constricting his throat and suddenly he can’t breathe. He needs to get out. He can’t do this. He’s convinced that he must be pathetic for being unable to deal with a little pain, guilty for not spending as much time with his parents as he should, too busy locking himself away in his room to try and avoid David. He knows his mother would be heartbroken if he told her he was cutting his visit short by a week, and Luke was sure he was selfish for thinking of himself over her. Even so, after a long period of hovering his finger over his managers contact in his phone, Luke pressed call and stammered out a rubbish excuse, something about meeting up with friends in LA early, as the rest of his band members weren’t flying out for another week. 

It was done. Luke was leaving, but that didn’t stop the ache in his bones and the tightness in his chest. 

 

Twenty-four hours pass, and Luke has booked a plane ticket, packed his bags and was preparing to say his goodbyes. Saying goodbye to his family is always an emotional task, especially where Liz is involved, but Luke knew it was just because as a mother, she misses her son terribly when he’s away for months at a time. David had got him alone for five minutes that morning, hissing insults and how pathetic Luke was for leaving so soon, how weak he was for not being able to put up with life lessons like the ones he was being ‘taught.’ 

Despite this, Luke stumbles through a series of hugs, claps on the back and kisses on cheeks when it’s time to leave, desperately trying not to flinch as David shook his hand, seemingly good-naturedly. It’s only Luke that can see the disgust in his uncle’s eyes as he stares Luke down. Then Luke’s walking out the door and down the drive, letting out a breath it feels like he’s been holding in for six days. 

He’s survived the storm, but he knows too well that all that happens now is that he’s left to pick up the broken pieces of himself, all alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Luke’s breath rattles deep in his throat as he jolts awake, his eyes shooting open as he struggles to get air into his oxygen deprived body. His blonde hair is sticking uncomfortably to his forehead with a sheen of cold sweat, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. He leans back against the headboard, still trying to get his grip on reality back. The white bed sheets are strewn around his trembling body. His eyes flicker quickly to the clock on the bedside, ticking away steadily, the complete opposite to Luke’s erratic heartbeat. It’s two in the morning, and as Luke focuses on his breathing, sucking in deep breaths and exhaling again, he knows it’s pointless trying to get back to sleep.

This is the fourth time he’s been woken up this week by the demons inside his head, unable to let him slip into the peaceful slumber that he so desperately needs. He’s usually always been good at controlling himself after waking up from nightmares. He has to be, unless he wants to risk Michael or anyone else seeing him in that state, but for some reason this week’s been different and Luke hates how vulnerable he feels. He’s alone, so goddamn alone in this house that’s far too big for one person, and he feels like he’s going insane.

 

The days have all rolled into one another; it seems to Luke, since he left Australia. It’s almost like each day that’s passed has just been pulled into a void, a void full of loneliness and desolation. Luke’s barely left the house, instead choosing to let himself sink further into the embrace of the pain he was feeling. He’s barely been sleeping at night, barely eating, barely functioning. The bruises on his skin have finally all shown their true colours, blossoming like hideous flowers into splotches of black, blue and purple all over his chest and back.

There’s only one thing that Luke allows himself to be grateful for, the fact that as long as he covers himself decently, there’s no way any evidence of the pain he’s feeling to be visible to any straying eyes. He hasn’t always been that lucky, agonizingly recalling the time David had gone that step slightly too far, and a fourteen year old Luke had to be rushed to the hospital by his mother, treated for a broken arm. “I tripped down the stairs.” That was Luke’s lame excuse, and he can still remember the pain that grew in his chest as his mother had shook her head fondly, because gosh her son had always been _so_ clumsy. If only she knew the truth. _She never will,_ Luke thinks.

 

When he brings himself back to reality, he’s still sitting up in bed, and his breathing is still slightly uneven. It takes him a minute to pull himself out of the nightmarish haze, and even then it takes him longer than it should do to figure out that it’s been six days since he arrived here. He knows this because right now, his band mates are probably disembarking a plane at LAX, a plane that had everything gone to plan, he was meant to be on. He’s not sure exactly how he feels about the idea of the house being full again. On one hand, he knows that he misses the feeling of safety and security that comes with being surrounded by his three best friends, brothers even, that he’s known for years know. However he’s not entirely sure how he’ll cope with human interaction, after locking himself away in the Los Angeles hillside, starving himself of any contact with others.

Luke flips his pillow over, flopping back down onto the mattress, which is still slightly damp from sweat but he can’t find an ounce of energy in him to care. He lies like that for hours, thoughts of Michael and the rest of his band running through his head. They're probably in a car right now on their way here; Michael's probably sleepy like he always is after getting off long haul flights because he can never sleep on planes. He's probably leaning on Calum, and it probably isn't even crossing his mind that Luke is usually his shoulder to lean on, after all Luke's positive they consider him disposable, easily replaceable. Why else would none of them have reached out to him over their break? 

 

It’s nearing four in the morning when Luke hears the front door open downstairs, and he shuts his eyes tightly. He can hear voices, hushed and drowsy words spoken familiar accents. All the sounds are so familiar to Luke, the sounds of suitcases being dragged through the door, curses while trying to untie shoelaces half-asleep, mumbled conversation, and then finally bare feet up the stairs as everyone searches for somewhere to rest. 

Ashton, Calum and Michael wander past the room he’s been inhabiting, and Luke can see light from the hallway through his closed eyelids, it creeps in as the door is cracked open. “Luke’s in here” a voice from right outside the door murmurs, and Luke immediately recognises it as belonging to Michael. Luke’s not sure whether he’s trying to alert the other boys of his whereabouts or if Michael is just speaking to himself.

Either way, he hears Michael tread softly into the room, and Luke is extremely careful not to move, attempting to slow down his breathing, even as his heart starts to quicken at his boyfriend being in close proximity to him again. Luke so badly wants to open his eyes, see the features of Michael’s face that he’s so dearly missed. Then Michael’s reaching down, brushing Luke’s hair from his forehead with a light touch and it takes all the energy Luke has in him to not lean into the touch he’s been craving. In that moment, every fibre in Luke’s being wants Michael to crawl under the covers with him and pull the younger boy close to him, protect him from the darkness inside his mind. So when Luke loses Michael’s touch, hears retreating footsteps and his door being clicked shut again, the loneliness he had been feeling previously returns, weighing down on his chest. Luke opens his eyes slightly, and his fears are confirmed when he sees the room empty. He’s not sure he’s ever felt so alone. 

He doesn’t sleep at all for the rest of the night. 

 

Two hours later, Luke feels like death as he pulls himself out of bed, heavy on his feet from lack of sleep. The house is completely silent, just like Luke is used to. It’s not until he steps out into the hall and sees the doors to the other bedrooms closed, that he remembers there are other people in the house apart from just him for once. Treading quietly to make sure he doesn’t wake any of the other boys, he makes his way downstairs. The sun’s just rising as Luke enters the kitchen, and he makes his way over to the window on the far side of the room, his attention caught by the brilliant pinks and faded oranges streaking the skies. His hands clasp at the top of the windowsill in the quiet kitchen, the first golden rays of sun catching in his messy blonde hair. If you took one look at the boy, you would be quick to assume he was as calm as his serene surroundings. No one would be able to guess that there was a war raging inside his sleep-deprived brain.

The silence doesn’t last anywhere near as long as Luke wanted it to. He only gets the kitchen to himself for half an hour before he hears shuffled footsteps behind him. Luke can feel someone staring at him, but he still doesn’t turn around, eyes focusing on the speck of a boat he can see out at sea in the distance.

“Luke.” That’s Ashton’s voice, and Luke immediately notes that his tone sounds more accusing than like a welcome greeting. Luke tugs at his shirtsleeve quickly; making sure all of his battered skin is covered before he turns.

“Hey” he mumbles, looking down at Ashton’s bare feet rather than up at his eyes.

“Hey” is all Ashton says in reply, before adding a tentative “how are you?” His voice still doesn’t hold that warm tone that is usually does, but at least he isn’t yelling at Luke. Luke shrugs in response, still not looking up. He flinches slightly as Ashton groans, muttering, “It’s way too early for your shit Luke.” Then Luke’s left alone again, listening to Ashton’s footsteps retreating back upstairs.

When he turns back to the window, the delicate shades of pink sky have been replaced by a dusty blue. 

 

Tension is high in the house all day, Luke can feel it. He knows that he’s not exactly the favourite person in the house, but he doesn’t realise the extent of the situation until late afternoon. Luke’s been hiding himself away in his room after his brief encounter with Ashton, and he’s finally venturing out again when he hears voices from downstairs. Making his way towards them, the conversation between the three boys in the living room stops abruptly as he walks in. Luke swallows nervously. Calum’s glaring at him, there’s no emotion on Ashton’s face and Luke can’t bring himself to look at Michael. It’s the first time he’s been near Michael since they got off the plane at Sydney airport two weeks ago, and he’s scared of what emotions he might see in Michael’s eyes. Anger? Loathing? Disgust?

Calum’s the first to speak up. “Look, Mr. Popular finally decided to show his face.” Luke’s expression twists into a frown at this, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Michael shift uncomfortably at Calum’s words.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Luke growls, immediately turning to anger as a desperate attempt to try and hide the vulnerable state he’s in from the people he cares about the most.

“You know exactly what I mean, you think you’re too cool for us all of a sudden?” Calum stands when he says this, taking a step closer to Luke and it takes everything in his power not to shrink away from being so close to someone. In the back of his mind, Luke knows this is the closest proximity he’s had to anyone for about a week. He crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

“I think you should shut your mouth because you don’t know what you’re taking about.”

“Don’t kid yourself Luke. What, you think you’re better than us all of a sudden? Fly over here without telling us so you can gallivant around bars and mix and mingle with people without us trailing along behind you and ruining your chances?” Calum taunts, almost as if he wants Luke to bite the bait and give him a chance to fight. Instead Luke just shakes his head, his jaw setting angrily but he refuses to say anything more.

“Well if it’s not that, then what is it?” Luke had forgotten that Michael was in the room in the midst of Calum’s tirade against him. Michael’s frowning, but his soft voice injects some much-needed gentleness into the conversation, in between Calum’s harsh words and Ashton’s stony silence. Luke just ignores Michael’s words, twisting his fingers together as a distraction from the three frustrated boys around him. Calum huffs out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

“Seriously Luke, whatever your problem was before we went on a break, we all thought you would have gotten over it by now. Just grow up dude.” Then Calum was gone, Ashton hot on his heels.

Suddenly, Michael and Luke were alone for the first time in two weeks. Michael stands up from the couch, taking a small step closer to him and Luke hates the way Michael’s eyes search his with such sadness. “Just leave me alone Michael” Luke mutters. Michael hates the way his name had left Luke’s lips, spoken so coldly, void of any love or affection.

“I’m worried about you” Michael admits softly, studying the younger boy and it’s when he reaches out to wrap his fingers around his boyfriends wrist that Luke snaps.

“Don’t touch me” he spits, his whole body tensing up as he pulls his arm out of Michael’s grip as if he’s been burnt. His chest tightens slightly, and he turns on his heel to leave the room before the tears starting to form in his eyes have a chance to spill.

Guilt plagues Luke as soon as he snaps at Michael but he’s so damn terrified. As soon as he let Michael back close to him, he’ll realise how screwed up Luke has become and he’ll leave and Luke can’t deal with that, not right now, not ever. So no matter how badly Luke wants to run back into the living room and let Michael wrap his arms around him, he keeps walking. 

 

After the episode with Calum and Michael, Luke refuses to talk to anyone for two days straight. Everything boils up inside of him during that time, all the emotions and the nightmares, the pain and the recollections of his uncle inside of his head become too much for him to deal with. Sometime soon, everything he’s trying to keep hidden inside of him will get too much and he’ll break. Luke's a time bomb and he knows it. He just wasn’t prepared for the bomb inside of him to go off that night, leaving a trail of confusion and hurt in its wake. 

 

It’s one in the morning when Luke wakes, and he can’t breathe. He’s trying to fight it as he jolts upwards into a sitting position, but the darkness of the room surrounding him makes him feel even more suffocated. Trying frantically to get air into his lungs, he stumbles from bed and out of the room, trying to escape the feeling that the walls were closing in on him. Luke is anything but quiet as he finds his way downstairs in his panicky state, finding the cool tiles of the kitchen as he collapses onto the floor. Despite the room being large and spacious, it still felt claustrophobic to Luke and air was suddenly too thick and hard to find. His t-shirt was sticking to his back with sweat, and it feels too small, like it’s constricting his lungs. Suddenly he’s hot, far too hot. Yanking at the hem of his shirt, he hastily pulls it off, beginning to get increasingly panicked as it gets caught on his long limbs and he just _can’t_ manage to get it over his head. His bare back hits the kitchen cabinets, his knees curled up in front of him. His breathing picks up again suddenly at an incredibly fast rate as a thought breaks through the muddle of his brain.

_He’s scared. So, so scared._

He was almost hyperventilating now, his uncle’s voice echoing through his brain, taunting him relentlessly. 

 

Luke was so trapped inside his own head that he didn’t hear Michael making his way down the stairs and entering the room. He didn’t hear the string of curses that escaped his boyfriend’s mouth when he saw Luke in such a state. Michael’s staggered; his eyes wide with fear as he watches Luke absolutely fall apart. Michael’s just woken up, and he can’t help but hope desperately that this is some sick dream, and he’ll wake up with Luke curled into his side and none of the past two weeks would have occurred. But as another choked sob escapes Luke’s throat, Michael’s brain kicks into autopilot. He’s moving towards Luke, and it’s not until he reaches down to touch his boyfriends shoulder that Luke notices his presence at all, flinching violently away from the touch. His head shoots up to look at Michael, breathing still ragged. His eyes are red and watery, and it kills Michael to see him looking so destroyed.

“Hey, it’s just me. You need to calm down okay?” Michael lets these words slip from his mouth quietly as he slides down to the ground, and this time Luke doesn’t flinch away at his presence. “Luke, you need to breathe for me okay? I need you to focus on me” Michael tries again to break through whatever is going on in Luke’s mind, wrapping an arm around the younger boy protectively and frowning at how hot his skin is to the touch. At first, Luke tries half-heartedly to pull away, before giving up and slumping against Michael’s side.

“I…I c-can’t” Luke rasps out, still shaking.

“You need to try okay? You’re fine I promise you, I’m right here.” 

 

They sit like this for what seems like hours, Michael loses track of the time, so focused on the trembling blonde boy beside him. Luke’s breathing evens out eventually, but when he removes his arms from where they had been defensively wrapped around his torso, it’s Michael’s turn for his breathing to speed up. Luke’s chest is beaten and marred; an assortment of different coloured bruises standing out against his skin. Michael’s eyes travel across his boyfriend’s body scanning each of the bruises and with each new one he comes across, the bigger the knot in his stomach grows. Luke snaps back to reality a minute later, as he realises what’s happening. He’s letting Michael in. That immediately becomes the least of his worries as all of a sudden, as his heart drops in his chest when he follows Michael’s gaze down onto his chest. “ _Get off me_ ” Luke growls suddenly, as realisation of that fact that Michael can see how repulsive he looks gives him the strength to push himself up off the kitchen floor and away from Michael. He’s kicked straight back into defensive mode, trying to put his walls back up.

He tries to get away as fast as he can, but he only makes it as far as the living room until Michael wraps his arms around his waist. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Please, just let me-“ 

“What the actual fuck is going on down here?” A voice comes from the doorway, and Michael turns to see a shirtless Calum, Ashton not far behind him.

“Cal, please just get out of-“ that’s as far as Michael gets into his sentence before Luke, who’s finally overwhelmed by the presence of the three boys, breaks down. He rips himself out of Michael’s grasp, a whimper escaping his lips as he strains the bruises on his torso while doing so. The room goes silent, every pair of eyes on Luke.

“Just g-get out, you all hate me remember? Piss- o-off” Luke forces out these words in between suppressed sobs. Michaels the first one to move, cautiously pulling Luke into his chest and for the first time, Luke doesn’t react at all. He doesn’t flinch or try to get away, instead he just allows Michael to hold him.

Michael’s voice is hushed as he speaks into Luke’s ear. “That’s not true Luke, you know we could never hate you.” Calum and Ashton look upon the situation with horror as their youngest band mates crumbles in front of their eyes, Michaels arms seemingly the only thing keeping him together in the present moment. “I’ll take him upstairs” Michael mouths to Ashton, wrapping an arm around Luke’s waist and he just allows himself to be led by Michael out of the room. 

 

Michael finally navigates the journey upstairs successfully with Luke, who’s already worn himself out and half-asleep. Michael has to half support, half carry his boyfriend back into the room he had been sleeping in before he was woken by the cries from downstairs. Pulling the covers back, Michael helps Luke crawl into bed before he slips in beside him, wrapping his arms gently around Luke’s waist.

It’s the best few hours’ sleep Luke has experienced for a few weeks, exhausted by the nights events and his exhausted self is comforted by having his boyfriend by his side. Michael however, hardly gets any rest at all for the remainder of the night. 


	3. Chapter 3

“What the hell happened last night?”

Michael’s just stepped into the lounge early the next morning, standing in the middle of the room, still exhausted having only gotten an hour of sleep. The second he had walked through the door, he found himself bombarded with question after question from Calum and Ashton, none of which he has an answer to. “I seriously don’t know” Michael frowns. Ever since he's woken up, his brain has continued working at overdrive to try and piece together the events from a mere six or so hours ago. Luke had still been fast asleep when Michael had slipped out of bed a few minutes ago, and he had been extra careful not to wake the younger boy.

“How the hell can you not know? He had bruises all over his goddamn body!” Calum’s voice rises, causing Michael to feel intimidated in his tired state, unable to deal with the angry tone. It feels like a punch in the gut as he realises that this is exactly how Luke must have felt when Calum had a go at him the day after the three of them had arrived back in LA. He feels even worse remembering the way he just sat there, saying nothing until Calum had finished. He had simply watched Luke try to fight back, even though he had that trapped look in his eyes, a tell tale sign of when he’s afraid. Now, Michael would give anything to be able to go back and be able to change his actions, stop himself from losing even more of Luke’s trust than he already had.

“Shut up Calum, of course I know he’s hurt, I’m not an idiot,” Michael growls. “You don’t get to suddenly act like a good guy, you’re the one who took it out on Luke in the first place.”

“Oh yeah, don’t act like you didn’t have any involvement in that. We were all mad, don’t pin it on me, you-“

“ _Guys_ ,” Ashton huffs out a sigh, rubbing at his temples. He’s stressed, lines creasing his forehead. “We all fucked up okay? There’s no use sitting here arguing about who’s fault it is. We just need to make sure Luke’s alright.”

“He’s not alright,” Calum points out unhelpfully, and Michael elbows his side, probably more forcefully than needed but it shuts him up.

Silence engulfs the room for a minute before Ashton speaks up. “You need to talk to him Mike, he trusts you.” Michael nods solemnly, and Ashton hates the sad look in his eyes as he does so. He takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around the guitarist. “Don’t beat yourself up, the only person who should be beating us up right now is Luke” Ashton mutters quietly into Michael’s ear, and Michael isn’t sure what to say, unable to shake the guilt crawling in his stomach.

 

Michael leaves the room after that, unable to stand the tension between all three of them and the amount of guilt in the room was suffocating. They all knew that they were wrong for assuming what was happening in Luke’s life, but Michael was sure he must be the most to blame. After all, he knows Luke the best. He can read Luke like an open book, with each bite of his lip, shake of his knee and furrow of his eyebrows, he knows what it all means. Now though, he realises he had been too caught up in the rest of the bands fear that Luke was becoming too cool for them that he forgot to look for the warning signs. Michael hates himself for it, for missing all the signs pointing to his boyfriend’s pain.

 

When he re-enters the bedroom, Luke’s still in bed and his eyes are cast up at the ceiling, completely unmoving. “You’re awake,” Michael states, hovering over the side of the bed.

“This isn’t my room” is all Luke says when he finally speaks up, but his eyes don’t meet Michaels.

“I brought you up here last night after… after, we’ll y’know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to sleep alone,” Michael informs Luke, adding a quiet “you don’t have to stay if you’d rather not” after he’s finished speaking. When Luke doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t move either, Michael takes it as a good sign. He crosses over to the other side of the bed, pulling aside the covers to climb in beside his boyfriend. Luke still doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s still staring determinedly at the ceiling. He’s put on a shirt as well, since Michael left the room. It’s the one that had been left strewn on the floor last night before he went to bed. It’s a bit too baggy on Luke and usually Michael would find that endearing, but instead he just feels sick thinking about the pain hidden underneath it.

Michael hesitates for a minute, lying next to Luke in silence, before he reaches over to pull his boyfriend close to him. Luke doesn’t resist, instead he practically melts at the touch, starved of any affection and as much as he wants to run, utterly _ashamed_ of how he broke down, he simply doesn’t have the energy or motivation to do so. He feels safe, yet utterly exposed and vulnerable at the same time, as he lets Michael wrap his arms around him, pulling him close to his chest. Michael has to bite his tongue to avoid blurting out the question that’s been lingering ever since he laid eyes on Luke curled up in the kitchen floor last night. He so badly wants to ask Luke what’s wrong, but he knows he has to give Luke a chance to rest and emotionally recover before he can question him. So Michael waits, but he can't ignore the way Luke flinches as he reaches down to run his fingers through his boyfriend's messy blonde fringe.

 

It’s late that night when the question finally slips passes his lips, and Luke still hasn’t left the room. Michael disappears briefly to grab Luke a glass of water, and when he returns he finds him sitting cross-legged on top of the messy duvet. He has the hem of Michael’s shirt he’s wearing pulled up, biting his lip as he stares down at one of the nastier looking purple bruises on his hip. As soon as he senses eyes on him, he lets the shirt fall back across his body, hiding the evidence and clasping his hands together in his lap. Luke hates the way Michael looks at him as if he’s a wounded animal of some kind.

“You need to talk to me Luke. Please don’t shut me out” Michael pleads; setting the glass of water he was holding down on the bedside table. Luke folds his arms across his chest, his defensive walls slowly coming back up at what he sees as some sort of confrontation from Michael.

“I’m not” is all he says, his tone hard.

“You are Lukey, and I hate that you’re hurting. I just want to help” Michael offers gently, choosing his words carefully. Luke opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, before closing it again and shaking his head. A wave of sadness washes over his face.

“I can’t Mikey, I’m sorry”

“Yes you can, I promise I could never think-”

Luke cuts him off with another sharp shake of his head, the brief show of vulnerability seemingly vanished. “Please just stop talking.”

Michael nods tersely, knowing he has to be understanding but it’s hard when all he wants to do is beat the absolute shit out of whoever has caused the person he cares about most, so much pain. Luke on the other hand, knows he’s causing Michael and the rest of his boys to worry. He wishes they would all just go on with their lives, leave him be. He’s afraid he’s becoming too reliant on Michael, petrified that as soon as the older boy finds out how weak he is, he’ll leave and Luke will be left even more broken than his current state. Luke isn’t prepared to risk that, unbelieving when Michael says that he’ll love him no matter what.

 

It takes a week, a long painful week, before Luke lets his defensive walls crumble. He knows he’s been causing his band mates nothing but pain. He sees the glances shared between Ashton and Michael when he refuses to eat anything more than a few bites of something, the way Calum always hesitates before he says anything around Luke, guilt still eating away at him after his explosive rant at their youngest band member.

The other boys see everything as well. They see the winces caused by his still aching body, the way his eyes glaze over every now and the, the way he gets lost in his own head. They hear the whimpers as well, late at night when Luke wakes with nightmares and Michael has to try and calm the panicked boy down. That kills Michael inside, having to try and soothe his boyfriend, without any knowledge of what’s causing the demons in his head to wake him up at night, what’s causing Luke to crumble under the weight of the bruises on his chest. However, it’s only at night when Luke lets his physical barriers down. He’ll crawl into Michael’s arms, allowing himself to be protected and held close. Despite the nightmares, Michael holds onto the hours spent hidden away in what’s now become “their bedroom,” not sleeping but not talking either. Just being together, the bond formed between them over so many passing years never truly able to be broken.

 

It’s a Saturday, arriving home late after a long day of promo, which had exhausted all of the boys. Luke had managed to switch his persona on when he needed to, a smile on his face that Michael could tell was false with just one glance, and a hand firmly clasped on his knee to try and keep the nervous shakes at bay. He was determined to give his all to these interviews. Although in the back of his mind he knew they wouldn’t be, he didn’t want to give his band mates another reason to be frustrated at him, like they had been after all the interviews he had screwed up before the Christmas break.

The day had worn Luke down, and all he wants to do is slide into bed and never emerge again. Michael’s right behind him as Luke pushes open the door to their room, shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it carelessly onto the back of a chair in the corner of the room. Michael can’t help but think about the fact that it’s almost as if Luke wants to believe that he can patch together his broken interior by pulling off his tough exterior, all leather jackets and lip rings. Michael sees right past that, and he knows that Luke wishes he wouldn’t. They know each other too well for that now.

Michael pulls off all of his clothing as well, running his fingers through his dyed blonde hair to tousle it up. He’s left in his boxers, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watches Luke move around the room, hanging his jacket up properly, make some sort of effort to fold his black jeans. All Michael can see is how _tired_ he looks. The purple bags under his eyes become increasingly more obvious as his face becomes paler and paler. His movements are lethargic, always having to pause and think for a second or two between actions as if he’s having trouble getting his brain to focus on the present moment. It worries Michael, but then again everything is worrying Michael these days.

Soon, the only sound filling the room is the rustling of unmade bed sheets as they curl up in bed, one of Michael’s arms slung around Luke, a protective gesture made purely out of instinct. That’s how sleep finds the both of them, intertwined with each other as a source of comfort. However, as of late sleep has been a short lived luxury for the both of them, and that’s no different tonight.

 

It’s less than two hours later until Michael wakes with a start; the sound of small whimpers making him feel sick. Luke was still pressed into his side, and Michael could feel his whole body shaking against him. “Luke? Hey, it’s all right. You need to wake up for me love, hey shhh, it’s okay” Michael’s murmuring into Luke’s ear, but it’s still two long minutes he has to endure the horrible cries before he finally jerks awake, panting softly. It only takes seconds after he wakes for a red blush to creep up, contrasting the pale shade of white his face had gone as a consequence of his night terrors haunting him.

“Sorry…” he mumbles after a minute, and Michael doesn’t say anything but hum softly, letting Luke know that everything’s alright as he runs his hands up and down his back. He frowns at the sweaty material of Luke’s striped t-shirt he still has on, his hands fisting gently round the bottom of it.

“You know you don’t need this right Lukey?” Michael murmurs in his ear, but he can feel Luke just shake his head against his chest.

“Yeah I do.”

“Shhh, it's all damp, you need to get rid of it. Plus, you're beautiful, you don’t need to hide anything from me.”

“M’not beautiful Mike-” Michael hushes his boyfriends complaints, and Luke loosens a little, giving in as Michael sits up to pull his sweaty shirt over his head. It’s the first time Luke’s been shirtless in front of him since everything had fallen apart that night on the kitchen floor. He hates the way he can tell Michael’s trying obviously hard not to stare at the marks all over his body. Michael hates the way his own breath seems to get stuck in his throat when he catches sight of the physical proof of the pain he can always see in Luke’s eyes.

 

Luke’s skin is hot as he settles back down against Michael, his head finding his place on his chest. There’s warm glow from the bedside lamp that Michael had turned on when he first woke up, casting the room in a dim light and the room falls into silence. Neither of the boys is able to fall back asleep, but regardless they lie still for hours, the steady rise and fall of Michael’s chest pulling Luke into a feeling of security. Suddenly, at three in the morning, Luke realises he hates all the unspoken words between him and Michael, all the secrets. He hates how undeserving he is of Michael and his unwavering support when really, Luke’s sure that logically he should have gotten sick of him and left by now. There have been countless times over the past week when Luke’s wanted to admit everything to Michael, opened his mouth with the words “my uncle did this to me,” on his tongue but never able to make himself admit them. The difference this time, in the quiet three-am silence, the words finally slip past his lips.

“It was my uncle.”

That’s all Luke can manage, but the words make enough of an impact on their own. Luke feels Michael’s body tense underneath him, and nerves shoot their way through his body when the older boy says nothing. For Luke, it was almost his worst nightmares being confirmed, he was sure that Michael must be so ashamed of him, so embarrassed at the fact that he’s unable to stand up for himself. “Mikey? Say something… I-I, I’m sorry, I know I’m pathetic, I c-can leave if you’d rather” he mumbles, not allowing himself to lock eyes with his boyfriend.

“Shit, no, oh my god, please don’t ever think that Luke, you could never be pathetic. I’m just; fuck I’m already screwing up this whole comfort thing. I love you, please don’t leave.” The words rush from Michael’s mouth. He can’t help it, shock causing his brain to race at high speeds as his mouth struggles to keep up. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had expected to come from Luke’s mouth when he finally let slip the root cause of all the bruises, all the nightmares, panic attacks and pain. But he definitely wasn’t expecting that, a member of his own family. How someone could do something so unforgiveable to their own nephew, someone they’re meant to love and cherish.

Michael takes a deep breath, clearing his head, knowing that he has to be the calm and rational one. “You have to talk to me Luke, I’m not going to let you keep it all bottled up inside of you, that’s no good” Michael urges, his words making more sense this time and his tone gentle. Luke bites at his lip nervously. “Hey, it’s a bit hot in here anywhere, why don’t we get up? I’ll make you a cup of tea, and we can talk about this a little more, if you’re comfortable with that. I just want you to feel okay” Michael tries again when Luke doesn’t reply, and this time he gives a small nod of his head. His heart rate slows slightly as Michael presses a reassuring kiss to his temple.

 

That’s how they end up sitting sofa downstairs in the early hours of the morning, hands curled around steaming mugs of tea. Neither of them had remembered to turn the lights on, but Michael could easily distinguish Luke’s nervous features with the silvery moonlight drifting through the window. Michael stays quiet; knowing that he has to let him control the conversation, take everything at his own pace. “I’m gay” is the first thing Luke says eventually, and Michael cracks a small smile.

“We’ve been dating for years, I’d be a bit worried if you weren’t” he teases Luke affectionately, he can’t help himself and he’s worried he’s already said the wrong thing. He’s relieved when a watery smile plays on his boyfriend’s lips at his attempt to break a little bit of the tension on the room.

“My uncle doesn’t really like that” Luke continues, and Michael reaches a free hand out to rest it on his knee, his thumb rubbing backwards and forwards comfortingly. “He… uh, I was twelve when he found out. I don’t really know how, I think Mum must of told him or something. It was Christmas Day and I just remember he got me alone a-and he was m-mad, really mad and I really don’t remember too much else, just that he hit me, kept trying to tell me that being gay was a sin.” Luke goes quiet again, his breathing uneven and shaky.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, I’ll still love you no matter what and you know that” Michael reassures Luke, seeing the pain evident on his face.

“No, n-no it’s okay, there’s not much else to tell. It’s just kinda been going on ever since, it’s been worse since you and I started, y’know, dating and stuff. He doesn’t like that. He was staying with our family over Christmas time last week; usually… usually he has his own place so he’s not around as much. I was around him for the whole week, and…. yeah,” Luke trails off, every word he speaks full of nervousness, scared his boyfriend might suddenly stand up and leave. It scares Michael at how long this has been going on, throughout all the years he’s known Luke, he’s been enduring that sort of horrible abuse and pain at the hands of his uncle, yet never uttered a word. Luke’s always been there for Michael, teaching him to love himself and how to get over countless self-esteem issues caused by the spotlight directed on them constantly. Now, Michael has to make up for the six years Luke’s been enduring pain, and no one’s been there for him.

“I’m so sorry Luke. You don’t deserve any of this… life sucks sometimes. I promise the next time we’re in Sydney, I’ll find him and kick his ass for you.” Michael is only half joking when he says this. Luke finds some form of comfort in his words and presence, relieved that he hasn’t gotten up and left. “I promise we’ll figure out a way to make sure these bruises-” Michael runs his hand lightly over Luke’s torso, and Luke flinches, then relaxes, “-fade and there won’t ever be any more.”

 

The conversation trails off as they place their mugs of tea on the ground next to the sofa, only half finished. Michael lies down and stretches his limbs out, pulling Luke down next to him. They lie like that for a minute, Michael’s arms tightly wound around Luke, Luke’s head resting on his shoulder. He traces patterns into the younger boys side, as he murmurs, “I’m so sorry I’ve been such a shithead”

“It’s okay… you didn’t exactly know any better, it’s my fault” Luke murmurs, his voice muffled slightly by Michael’s bare shoulder.

“No, it could never be your fault. I never should have assumed anything.”

“It’s fine Mikey, let’s just sleep” Luke reassures the older boy; hating the guilt he can hear in his voice. Despite how nervous Luke had been about spilling the darkest secret he’s kept to himself for six years, it feels as if small pieces of his soul are putting themselves back together. Michael knows, and although Luke is adamant that he doesn’t need anyone to protect him, deep down he’s so grateful that the nights where he would sit in the corner of his room, unsuccessfully fighting off panic attacks, have passed.

 

That’s how Ashton and Calum find them in the morning, Luke half on top of Michael, Michael’s arms still wrapped tightly around his boyfriend in a protective manner. The two of them leave the couple alone, moving through to the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid waking them. They both know that Michael and Luke have been extremely sleep deprived as of late, Luke left with no energy as he falls apart, and Michael using all of his to try and keep Luke together.

Luke’s the first to wake, his neck and back aching from sleeping at an awkward angle. A split second of panic hits him as he glances down at his bare chest, pressed right next to Michaels, until he remembers the events of the previous night and he can breathe easy again. He told Michael everything and yet he’s still here. Its times like this, when he looks at Michael and feels an unbelievable amount of love rush through him, that he’s guilty for ever wishing he were straight. That happens sometimes, more often than it should do. If he was straight, he would never have to deal with any of this, and he wouldn’t have six years of scars marking his body. But then he remembers everything about Michael he loves, his ability to always make him smile, the way he mumbles in his sleep sometimes, the way he lets Luke choose his hair colours, the way he makes him feel so goddamn _loved._ If he was straight, he would never have any of that, and once again Luke decides that despite any amount of pain, he could never, ever give up Michael.

 

Michael wakes after a minute, bringing a hand up to scrub the side of his face and attempt to smooth his dyed blond hair, mussed against the arm of the sofa. “Mornin’ Luke” he mumbles and his voice rough with sleep, pulling Luke from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to reply, Ashton is poking his head around the side of the kitchen door into the living room. Luke frowns, unaware that they had company downstairs. Michael, forever knowing Luke almost better than he knows himself, sits up to try shield him from view, knowing he won’t want Ashton to be able to inspect his bruises too closely.

“Hey, you guys want breakfast or something?” Ashton asks, and Michael glances at Luke before nodding.

“Thanks Ash, we’ll join you guys in a sec.” Ashton, fully understanding that they need a moment alone, gives the two boys a final smile, almost sympathetic, before turning and disappearing again.

“Do we have to tell them?” Luke asks quietly, still remaining stretched across the sofa.

“They need to know, they’re so worried” Michael nodded.

“Can you do it?” Luke pulls his bottom lip between his teeth nervously, but he just receives another nod from Michael. 

“Of course, anything for you.”

 

Michael understands when Luke slips away upstairs instead of following him into the kitchen. Confiding in one person was enough, but he couldn’t be sure of how the other two would react, so if they were going to laugh or leave, he would rather not witness it. So he hides himself away in their room, technically meant to be belonging to Michael but everyone knows they were going to end up sharing anyway. Half an hour passes and Luke grows increasingly nervous. He’s sitting atop of the bed covers, and he can hear muffled voices from downstairs but he can’t make out what they’re saying. Then all of a sudden there are footsteps coming up the stairs, and a knock at the closed bedroom door.

“Come in” Luke calls weakly, and he sees Ashton and Calum appear, Michael following closely behind them. He's not sure how much they know, but judging by the worried looks on their faces, he assumes Michael's just repeated everything that he had told him last night. Luke's okay with that he supposes, he knows that they have to find out at some point.

“Holy fuck Luke, we’ve been the biggest dickheads on the planet and I’m so, so sorry” Ashton blurts immediately, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed, not entirely sure how close Luke will let him get. Luke, suddenly feeling slightly overcrowded, couldn’t be more grateful he decided to put on a shirt and cover up. It's one of Michael’s again. 

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault.” Luke attempts to shrug it off, but he offers Ashton a small smile, looking him in the eyes for the first time in weeks. He can tell Ashton’s sincere, and it makes him feel slightly more relaxed. 

“No, don’t make excuses for me, for any of us. We should have called you, made sure you were okay, the second we heard you had already left Australia. But we didn’t because we’re the worst friends in the entire universe and I promise I’m going to try my hardest to make it up to you” Ashton promises, and Michael watches on from the back of the room. Ashton and Luke have always had a brotherly dynamic, being the oldest and the youngest, so when Ashton throws an arm around Luke and whispers something in his ear, Michael feels nothing but relief at the fact that it seems that things are finally looking up slightly.

 

After a minute, Ashton sits back and lets Calum, who up until now has been standing back nervously, approach Luke. “Hey” Calum started, and Luke just nods in his direction, knowing that Calum isn’t going to yell at him again, but still slightly on edge. “Look at me?” Luke glances up at this, blue eyes meeting Calum’s brown ones and it calms Luke slightly. These are the same eyes that he’s seen most days for years, and for a moment it feels like nothings changed. “I’m so sorry Luke. I don’t even know how to… I just… god I’m so fucking sorry. I never should have yelled at you, I never should have assumed that the reason you left was because you thought you were too cool; I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I was just scared, but that’s no excuse. Michael and Ashton already kicked my ass for it downstairs just before but if you need to yell or hit something, I’m your most worthy target.”

“I don’t want to _hit_ anything. You shouldn’t hit anyone,” Luke mutters, diverting his eyes away from Calum's again. At the same moment, everyone in the room remembers the cause of the bruises underneath his shirt, and Michael pushes past Calum and sits down, wrapping an arm around Luke. Calum’s eyes are red and watery, which is a rare occurrence because he never cries,  _ever._

“I didn’t mean that. That was such a stupid thing to say” Calum gulps, guilt staining his words. Luke lets out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders deflating.

“No, It’s okay… I’m sorry, I’m just a little fucked up at the moment.”

“You’re not fucked up” Michael quickly jumps to defend his boyfriend against himself and Luke just brushes him off, his insecurities not important in the present moment.

“Like Ash said, you can’t make excuses for us. Enough people have screwed you over Luke, we’re meant to be the ones looking after you, not making it worse, and we’ve messed that up” Calum’s fighting to keep his voice steady, and the thought that his pain is causing others so much pain causes tears to well up in Luke’s eyes.

“I don’t need anyone to look after me-“

“Yes you do Luke!” Ashton cuts him off, hints of exasperation in his tone but he’s careful to make sure he doesn’t come off too aggressive. “You’re hurting and you need us to be here for you. We screwed that up the first time, but we’re going to make it right.”

Calum opens up his arms to Luke, offering up the affection that he knows he should have been showing him right from the start. Luke lets Calum slip his arms around him, and although he hugs a bit tighter than he should have done, pressing against multiple bruises, Luke doesn’t complain. He’s just happy that he doesn’t have anything to hide anymore from his band mates, his best friends, his _brothers_.

It doesn’t take long for Ashton and Michael to join in on the hug, a more emotional and tearful version of the band hugs they share more often than might be considered normal for their age. They end up as a sprawl across the double bed, which far too small for all four of them, fully grown men but it doesn’t bother them. They’re a tangle of limbs, heads resting on chests, legs tangled and arms thrown across waists. It reminds Luke of the nights they book four hotel rooms and all end up staying in one anyway because they’re homesick and the other three boys are their home away from home.

They lie there in comfortable silence, and it’s when Michael presses a kiss to Luke’s forehead, whispering a quiet “I love you” in his ear for only him to hear, Luke realises that for the first time in a month, he feels completely safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys should totally come and say hi on here or on my [tumblr](http://lovely-muke.tumblr.com) if you wanna be my friend and talk about writing and 5sos and all that good stuff. thanks for reading this and leaving so many lovely comments, if you want to leave [feedback](http://lovely-muke.tumblr.com/ask) that would be greatly appreciated! much love, hayley xx


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